


Welcome Back to Sweater Town

by burglebezzlement



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Knitting, Mabel Pines' Sweaters, Sweater Curse, Treat, Yarn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burglebezzlement/pseuds/burglebezzlement
Summary: Mabel keeps coming home to boxes of mystery yarn. Pacifica may know more than she’s letting on.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ViolentFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolentFlowers/gifts).



> Happy Chocolate Box!
> 
> When I saw your prompt about Pacifica trying to woo Mabel with over the top gifts, my mind immediately decided that Pacifica was buying Mabel really nice yarn. Only then I had to figure out why….

There’s a box on the doorstep when Mabel gets home from her Gravity Falls Learning Annex class on marketing tourist traps. Which is weird, because Mabel's weekly glitter delivery isn’t until tomorrow.

When Mabel opens the box, upstairs in the apartment she shares with her girlfriend Pacifica, she finds yarn. Glorious, glowing yarn, in a deep blue cashmere that seems to glow like the sunlight dancing over ocean waves on a warm spring day. Mabel runs her hands over it and groans -- this is amazing yarn, once in a lifetime yarn.

There’s no shipping label on the box, and nothing inside the box to say where it came from. Mabel checks all the skeins. One’s from a different dye lot from the rest, which is weird, but even without that skein,  there’s more than enough of the cashmere to make a sweater. Maybe two sweaters.

“Maybe a sweater for me and a sweater for you,” Mabel tells Waddles. He snorts back at her from his Mabel-Tastic Pig Play Area (patent pending).

* * *

Mabel asks Pacifica about the yarn that night, but Pacifica says she doesn’t know anything about stupid old yarn, who would care about yarn?

“It’s amazing yarn,” Mabel says, but she lets the topic drop.

Things have been good between them since they met again on the Junior Pro Mini-Golf Tour and fell in love. Mabel wasn’t expecting it, not after looking for love in so many wrong places -- and what could be a wronger place than your childhood mini-golf nemesis? But somehow, the two of them just work together. 

Even after they moved back to Gravity Falls. Mabel moved back to cover at the Mystery Shack for Soos, who was going on paternity leave. Pacifica can live anywhere for the months she's not out on the Pro Mini-Golf Tour, and between Pacifica’s mini-golf winnings, what Mabel makes down at the Shack, and Mabel’s many Etsy-related endeavors, they do pretty well for themselves.

* * *

Mabel waits for a bit before putting the yarn away in one of her crafting armoires, the one she reserves for the really good stuff, like high-end glitter and limited-edition scrapbooking stickers. 

Pacifica says she doesn’t know anything about the next box, either, which shows up a few days later. This box is full of magenta kid mohair that feels so fine, Mabel wants to apologize to it for touching it.

A few days after that, there’s a box of fine, fine purple silk, enough to knit five full-sized shawls. Mabel’s fingers catch on the fibers as she runs her hand over them. Real silk, spun perfectly, and someone must have spent a mint of money to buy this much of it.

“You’re doing this, aren’t you,” Mabel says, to Pacifica.

Pacifica looks up from the book on mini-golf technique she’s reading. “Doing what?”

“Sending me all this yarn.” Mabel puts the box down in front of one of her crafting armoires. “Why?”

Pacifica glares down at the mini-golf book. It’s open to a page of diagrams on common water hazards and how to avoid them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, without looking at Mabel. “If all the mystery yarn just happens to match my complexion perfectly, I’m sure it’s just, like, a coincidence or something.”

“Hah!” Mabel crouches down to look up at Pacifica’s face. “So you did send it!”

Pacifica looks up from the book to glare at Mabel. “No I didn’t.”

She so totally _did_ , but Mabel moves on to the next question. “Why?”

“I can’t believe you have to _ask_ that.” Pacifica slams the book shut.

“Gettin’ kinda confused here,” Mabel says. “Could you tell May-Bot the robot?” She holds her arms out in a robot-like pose. “Meep. Moop. I am May-Bot, tell me your problems human girlfriend.”

Pacifica looks at her, and then laughs like she doesn’t want to.

“Seriously,” Mabel says. “What’s wrong? I’m loving the yarn train, don’t get me wrong, but… if I did something, I want to know what it is.”

“younevermakemeasweater,” Pacifica mumbles, all in one word.

“What?”

“You never make me a sweater!” Pacifica gets up from her chair and starts pacing up and down the rug. “You make sweaters for your uncles. And your brother. And Soos. And Melody. And Wendy.”

“They’re my family,” Mabel says, but Pacifica keeps going.

“You made a sweater for Lazy Susan when the air conditioning at Greasy’s Diner stopped working, which, like, didn’t even make sense. You made a sweater for Deputy Durland!”

“Sheriff Blubs has RSI! It’s not like he could knit one!” 

“You made a sweater for a squirrel two days ago,” Pacifica says. She flops down on their couch. “And it wasn’t even a squirrel you _knew_.”

“He just looked so cold,” Mabel says.

She sits down next to Pacifica and tries to take her hand, but Pacifica’s glaring, not at Mabel but at one of the sweater cupboards, across the room.

“I didn’t know you wanted a sweater,” Mabel says. “You used to make fun of my sweaters.”

“Didn’t want a sweater? Didn’t want a sweater.” Pacifica gets up and goes to her dresser and digs down in her polo shirt drawer. She pulls something out from the bottom, from underneath all the moisture-wicking golf shirts. 

Mabel recognizes it instantly, the way she recognizes anything she once made with her own hands. It’s a yellow sweater, sized for a twelve-year-old, with a brown llama knit into the front.

Pacifica hands it to Mabel, who brushes her hands over it. It’s knit with low-quality acrylic yarn. Mabel remembers buying that yarn. She made her mom take her to Bargain Yarn By The Pound! to stock up for her summer in Gravity Falls. 

But she didn’t know —

“You kept it?” she says, looking at Pacifica.

“I used to wear it,” Pacifica says, looking embarrassed. “After we moved away.”

Mabel brushes her hand over the sweater. The acrylic must be pilling, after all those years, but the surface of the sweater is smooth, like someone’s been taking it to a high-priced drycleaner who has all the fancy tools for removing sweater pills.

“I’m sorry,” Mabel says. “I just… I didn’t want to tempt the curse.”

“What curse?” Pacifica looks at her like she’s got two heads. “The Northwest curse is broken, remember? Losing all your money and selling your family mansion to a weirdo and his raccoon wife tends to do that.”

“Not that curse,” Mabel says. “The sweater curse.” 

Pacifica gives her a _look_. “I have no idea what that is.”

“It’s the _curse_ ,” Mabel says. “You know, you knit a sweater for your girlfriend and you end up breaking up before the sweater’s complete.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” Pacifica says. “Why would anyone break up over a sweater?”

“Well, you just almost broke up with me over a not-sweater,” Mabel says, feeling shaky.

Pacifica gets up and goes to Mabel, and puts her arms around her, holding her close. “I spent $800 on yarn over a not-sweater,” she says, into Mabel’s ear. “I’m not breaking up with you.”

Mabel throws her arms around Pacifica and hugs her. Hard. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

* * *

Later, Pacifica pulls back. “You really didn’t make me a sweater because of a curse?”

Mabel shrugs. “It’s probably silly. I just….”

She didn’t want to risk it, is all. It’s been so good, living with Pacifica, spending time together, getting to know her in ways she couldn’t when they were kids. They’ve come from different places, but they’ve met in the middle. Mabel doesn’t want to lose her.

“You can knit me as many sweaters as you want.” Pacifica brushes her lips across Mabel’s. “Zero, one, infinity.”

Mabel snorts. “Infinity sweaters might be a lot.”

“Where would we put them?” Pacifica shakes her head. “Fine. One sweater.”

"One sweater," Mabel says.

One sweater to start with, anyway. Mabel’s got images of sweaters already dancing in her head. Pacifica already owns a Mabel Pines original, and the way she took care of it tells Mabel that this girlfriend is sweater-worthy, curse or no curse. 

They’re going to need another sweater cupboard.


End file.
